The Atlantic Monthly, volume 11, No. 67, May, 1863
The Atlantic Monthly, volume 11, No. 67, May, 1863
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In our eReader you can find the full English version of the book. Read The Atlantic Monthly, volume 11, No. 67, May, 1863 Online - link to read the book on full screen. Our eReader also allows you to upload and read Pdf, Txt, ePub and fb2 books. In the Mini eReder on the page below you can quickly view all pages of the book - Read Book The Atlantic Monthly, volume 11, No. 67, May, 1863
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To quickly assess the difficulty of the text, read a short excerpt:
"I thought, " he said. --great drops of sweat coming out on his sallowlips, --"God meant you to help me. There is my life, little girl. You maydo what you will with it. It does not value much to me. " And Grey, woman-like, gathered up the despised hand and life, and sobbeda little as she pressed them to her heart. An hour after, they wenttogether up the old porch-steps, halting a moment where the grape-vinesclustered thickest about the shingled wall. The house was silent; eventhe village slept ...in the moonlight: no sound of life in the greatsweep of dusky hill and valley, save the wreaths of mist over thewatercourses, foaming and drifting together silently: before morningthey would stretch from base to base of the hills like a Dead Sea, ashyand motionless. They stood silent a moment, until the chirp of somerobin, frightened by their steps in its nest overhead, had hummeddrowsily down into sleep.
"It is not good-night, but good-bye, that I must bid you, Grey, " hesaid, stooping to see her face.
What to read after The Atlantic Monthly, volume 11, No. 67, May, 1863?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Various to read onlineMoreLess
To quickly assess the difficulty of the text, read a short excerpt:
"I thought, " he said. --great drops of sweat coming out on his sallowlips, --"God meant you to help me. There is my life, little girl. You maydo what you will with it. It does not value much to me. " And Grey, woman-like, gathered up the despised hand and life, and sobbeda little as she pressed them to her heart. An hour after, they wenttogether up the old porch-steps, halting a moment where the grape-vinesclustered thickest about the shingled wall. The house was silent; eventhe village slept ...in the moonlight: no sound of life in the greatsweep of dusky hill and valley, save the wreaths of mist over thewatercourses, foaming and drifting together silently: before morningthey would stretch from base to base of the hills like a Dead Sea, ashyand motionless. They stood silent a moment, until the chirp of somerobin, frightened by their steps in its nest overhead, had hummeddrowsily down into sleep.
"It is not good-night, but good-bye, that I must bid you, Grey, " hesaid, stooping to see her face.
What to read after The Atlantic Monthly, volume 11, No. 67, May, 1863?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Various to read onlineMoreLess
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